See the ruin on the hill
|
where the smoke is hangin still
|
like an echo of an age long forgotten
|
theres a story of a home
|
crushed beneath those blackened stones
|
and the roof that fell before the beams were rotten
|
Cecil Darby loved his wife
|
and he labored all his life
|
to provide her with material possessions
|
and he built for her a home
|
of the finest wood and stone
|
and the building soon became his sole obsession
|
|
oh it took 300 days
|
for the timbers to be raised
|
and the silhouette was seen from miles around
|
and the gables reached as high
|
as the eagles in the sky
|
but it only took one night to bring it down
|
when Darby's castle tumbled to the ground
|
|
though they shared a common bed
|
there was precious little said
|
in the moments that were set aside for sleepin'
|
for his busy dreams were filled
|
with the rooms he'd yet to build
|
and he never heard young Helen Darby weepin'
|
then one night he heard a sound
|
as he layed his pencil down
|
and traced it to her door and turned the handle
|
and the pale light of the moon
|
through the window of the room
|
split the shadows where two bodies lay entangled
|
|
oh it took 300 days
|
for the timbers to be raised
|
and the silhouette was seen from miles around
|
and the gables reached as high
|
as the eagles in the sky
|
but it only took one night to bring it down
|
when Darby's castle tumbled to the ground
|
|
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|
Darby's Castle
|
| Shawn Mullins |
